Living On A Prayer
by madeleine68
Summary: Right after Loss, Alex has to go into witness protection, leaving Olivia behind. How can she handle it? Fully established A/O. THE FINAL CHAPTER IS UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the show, they belong to the amazingly brilliant Dick Wolf. Not me. Too bad.**

**This takes place after **_**Loss **_**from Alex's point of view. This is A/O and they are in a fully established relationship; if you don't like it, don't read. Pretend **_**Conviction **_**never happened.**

**Review for more!**

I'm dead.

Legally, that is. Last night I had to say goodbye to the life I used to know. I wasn't afforded the luxury of saying goodbye to my friends, my colleagues, or even my mother. They all think I'm dead – except Elliot and Olivia, my closest friends. I refused to go anywhere until I saw them and the marshals had better things to do than argue with me. They probably knew how stubborn I am and figured telling two detectives and swearing them to secrecy wouldn't hurt.

They tell me my name is Emily now. I'm from Tulsa. We're on a plane on our way to Wisconsin, which will be my new home. They tell me to forget my old life, forget who I used to be. They tell me to forget my friends, my job, my family. They tell me I'm never going to get it back and I'm won't be doing myself any favors by dwelling on the old Alexandra Cabot. Alexandra Cabot is dead. In her place is Emily Richardson. The things Emily shares with Alexandra are purely physical; height, weight, and shoe size. That's it.

We arrive in Wisconsin and the marshals take me to my new house. It's nice – probably nicer than the apartment I had in New York. But I can't help but think that this is only temporary. I only have to play the role of Emily Richardson for a short period of time before I can go back to Manhattan, to the DA's office, to SVU. I only have to play the role of Emily Richardson for a short period of time before I can go back to Olivia.

It's impossible for me to accept that I'll never see my best friend again. Now I truly understand how mothers of missing children and husbands of missing wives can go on, even for years, living on the hope that one day their babies will be returned to them. I always thought I was above this "living on a prayer" crap, but clearly I'm not. It's easier to think that one day things might be different than to accept that this is my life.

The marshals leave me at my new house and tell me they'll be around to check on me tomorrow. I bite back the, "That's nice," that I would have said had I still been an ADA. Instead I say, "Thank you," and watch them get into their car and drive away.

I've been awake for almost forty hours straight and I suddenly realize how exhausted I am. I tried to sleep on the plane but I was too wound up. I spent the airplane ride going over images of my best days at SVU. My days with Olivia. Even though we had the good, the bad, and the ugly, I wouldn't trade one day of that job for anything. I remember the Roy Barnett case. That was the day I crossed a line and truly gave myself up to the job. The reputation that had been so important to me from day one went out the window and I was suddenly one of them, just like Elliot and Olivia and John and Fin, who would sacrifice themselves to put away the bad guys without a second thought. From that day on, Olivia and I were best friends. It was the day we realized what kindred spirits we truly were.

I try to force all thoughts of Olivia from my mind. I have to accept that I may never see her again. She _was _my best friend, and more than that. She isn't anymore.

Suddenly feeling more alone than I've ever felt in my life, I shiver and walk around turning on all the lights. The house seems so large and empty and I can't stand it. No one knows where I am right now except the marshals, who mean nothing. I truly am alone in the world.

I flop down on my couch, trying to commit to memory the image of Olivia, the way her chocolate eyes dance when I tell her she's beautiful, the fiery determination when she's trying to find a child abuser or rapist, the gentle, patient compassion she uses when she talks to the victims. The way she smiled when I gave her that necklace, the one she never showed anyone but wears every day under her shirt. It was a gift in honor of our anniversary, to mark that we'd been together, however unofficially, for a year. She'd given me a pair of earrings with diamond studs. But I'm supposed to be dead, so the marshals couldn't take me back to my apartment in Manhattan to get anything. Not the earrings, not even a photo album with pictures of my friends and I.

I want so badly to call Olivia, but I know I can't. I pick up the phone and dial the number, then hang up the phone, knowing if I press the talk button, Zapata will hear about it sooner or later and come back to kill me. Then Olivia will be in danger too.

Instead, I call her apartment. I know she won't be there and the phone will go straight into voicemail. I press *67 on my phone so they won't be able to trace it and hold my breath as her voice comes over the phone. _Hi, you've reached Olivia. Sorry, I'm not here right now. If it's an emergency, call my cell. Otherwise, please leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP._ I wonder briefly if severe emotional distress counts as an emergency.

I call three or four times, my body tensing and then relaxing each time I hear Olivia's sweet voice. Even though she's a million miles away, doing this makes me feel closer to her.

I cradle the phone in my arms, curl up on my couch, and cry as I haven't cried since my father died when I was fifteen. I miss Olivia so much that it physically hurts.

Now I know what a broken heart feels like.

**Sorry, I know that the first chapter's short, but I thought this was the right place to end it. Review if you want to read more!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, these characters are not mine. They belong to Dick Wolf, and let me tell you, that man is a genius.**

**Review for chapter three!**

My guilty conscience is making me paranoid. I'm terrified that Zapata will somehow locate me through the calls I made to Olivia. Even though I blocked my number, I know there are ways to trace even unknown numbers.

I go out grocery shopping and tense up every single time a man glances at me on the street. Every single time, I think, _Is it him? Has he found me? Is he going to kill me? _That's when I realize how prudent it was to keep our relationship private – mine and Olivia's. If Zapata knew Olivia and I were together, he'd take out a hit on her, and she'd be in danger. In hindsight, my calling her could have put her in jeopardy.

I try to calm my unreasonable suspicions and think like a prosecutor, with logic rather than emotion. First of all, Zapata thinks I'm dead, so he isn't looking for me. Secondly, he doesn't know Olivia and I are – _were _– in a relationship, so he won't take out a hit on her. Therefore, neither of us is in any danger and I'm being overly cynical.

I pick up a salad for dinner at the grocery store, too jumpy to do a full shop. This is unfamiliar territory for me; I'm not used to being fearful. I understand that, as they told me, it will take time for me to get over my attempted murder. Now I truly know how every single victim I ever dealt with at SVU felt.

When I get home, I rummage around the shelves in my basement that are stocked with movies that the previous owners probably left here. It occurs to me how odd that is, but then I shrug to myself and try to rid myself of my skepticism and pop a DVD into the television.

I fall asleep halfway though and dream of Olivia all night. I can feel her gentle fingers running through my long blonde hair, her soft lips pressed against mine, her hands exploring my body and making me feel things I'd never felt before.

But then I wake up and it's over. It's just me, lying alone in my queen-sized bed, and Olivia's gone. She might as well be a million miles away.

I sigh and roll over. I take the two pillows on the other side of my bed and the clothes I was wearing yesterday, which are strewn on my dresser. I ball them up and put them on the other side of the bed, pretending it's Olivia. If I pretend she's here with me, maybe I'll be able to sleep tonight.

* * *

The next day, I decide to take a long walk. Exercising always helps me to release the tension pent up inside me and so I grab my cell phone, if only for the fact that it has a built in GPS, and leave the house. I let my feet take me where they want to go and the next thing I know, I'm at the boardwalk. Without caring about the direction in which I'm going, I walk up and down next to the lake, trying not to miss Olivia. Walking always helps me to think, but then, right now, I don't _want _to think. I want to push all thoughts from my mind.

Sometimes I wish Zapata had finished the job. It would have saved me from the pain I'm going through right now.

*** * ***

Days turn to weeks. Weeks turn to months. Months turn to years. I never forget Alexandra Cabot and I never forget Zapata, but I get used to Emily Richardson. Emily has a boyfriend and he's a good man. At night, he kisses me and rubs my back, murmuring "Emily" in my ear, which would be calming if it was my real name, but instead it makes me feel slightly ill.

While I'm in bed with him, I think of the one thing I can't forget – Olivia Benson. I pretend he's her. I miss her so much, even now, three years later. The marshals came to me two months ago and told me Zapata and Liam Connors and all the other men who might potentially try to kill me were dead. They said I could go back and become Alexandra Cabot again, but I can't bear to return. I've been Emily for so long that I can't even imagine being Alex again. The only potentially compelling factor to return is Olivia. I can still never forget her, the way her rich chocolate eyes danced when she smiled at me, the gentle banter we used to share, the way her face lit up when she saw me every morning.

Tonight, though, I'm alone. My boyfriend – if I can call him that, considering what we share is only superficial – is out of town and once again, I feel so lonely. I turn on all the lights in my house just as I did the day I arrived three years ago and switch on my laptop. I absentmindedly open iTunes and press sync.

Suddenly I hear the ding dong of the doorbell. Briefly I wonder who would be at the door at this hour. Hoping it's not someone trying to sell me something, I pull on my bathrobe and open the door.

There's a woman standing on my front stoop and I gasp when I see her. Her hair is a little longer and her face is a little more creased, but her eyes are unmistakable. Without a doubt, the woman standing in front of me is none other than Detective Olivia Benson.

**I apologize for the shortness of these chapters. I hope you don't mind. Please review for more!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the show, they belong to Dick Wolf, not me. Life sucks.**

**Review for more!**

I stand gaping at her as if I've seen a ghost, although it's cold outside and she's standing out there, shivering on my front stoop. "Liv," I manage to choke out. "You shouldn't have come."

"Hello to you, too," she says sarcastically.

Blushing, I look at the ground. How is it that I always end up saying the wrong thing and embarrassing myself around her? "That wasn't what I – I mean – you weren't supposed to –" For once, I'm speechless. Then I come to my senses and realize that my blabbering isn't helping the situation, so I close my mouth and step aside so Olivia can come in.

She glances around my house. "You've got a nice place."

I'm not in the mood for niceties right now. Instead, I say bluntly, "What are you doing here?"

"I missed you," she says simply, sitting down on the couch of my living room as if she's been coming here every day for her entire life, making herself at home as only Olivia can. "You've been out of Witness Protection for two months, Alex. You never returned any of my calls."

I start at the use of my old name. No one's called me _Alex_ in years now. "I – I didn't know what to say to you," I stammer.

"ADA Alex Cabot, speechless. That's a first." She peers closer at me and knits her brows. "You've changed."

"You haven't seen me in three years," I remind her. "That's what people do."

Smirking, she leans back against the couch. "I take it back. You haven't changed one bit."

I give her a small smile. "Are you staying for a few days?"

"No."

My face falls. "Oh."

It's odd that Olivia and I are sitting here right now, the moment I've waited for for three years, but the air is layered with tension. We used to be able to talk for hours, about everything and nothing, but now neither of us knows what to say.

Olivia leans toward me. "Alex, we miss you. We want you to come back."

I shake my head. I can't. I won't be able to pull it off. I've gone three years as Emily; I've _become _her. I don't know who Alex Cabot is anymore or even if I'll ever be able to become her again. Alex Cabot truly died the day Emily Richardson was born. What's left for me in New York? I'd be taking on the life of a ghost, and I'm sure everyone, excluding Olivia, has already forgotten about me. There's nothing there.

Then again, there's nothing left _here _for me either. Now that I've seen Olivia, leaving her behind again will be impossible.

"I can't," I murmur. Then I look up at Olivia, who's watching me with an unreadable expression on her face. She's so beautiful, and seeing her, even for one day, makes the last three years worthwhile. The fight seems to drain from me. "Liv, there's nothing _for _me in New York." It's my final weak protest.

"Alex," she says, tilting her head and folding her arms over her chest as if she's divulging a profound truth. "You can continue with this life if you want to. I'm not going to stop you. But you're living a lie. Of course," she adds. "That's the point. But it's not a lifelong thing."

"It's supposed to be."

"But it doesn't _have _to be. Not for you. Not for us."

Wait a second – _us_? "So you're telling me that in those three years I was gone, you never found someone else? I wasn't supposed to ever come back here. You were going to spend your entire life waiting for a ghost."

She rests her head on her chin. "I knew you'd be back."

"_Right_."

"Alex, I understand how hard –"

"Don't give me that, Liv," I interrupt her. "You don't understand. You _can't_."

"But," she says simply. "I want to." Pausing, she continues, "It's not going to be easy. But in my opinion, it will be worth it. It's your choice – but I missed you. For the last three years, I've missed you."

"Me, too," I whisper.

She stares at me, waiting for a response.

Finally, I allow it. "I'll come back with you."

It's what I've wanted for the last three years. Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.

**Review for chapter four!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the show, they aren't mine. They're Dick Wolf's.**

**I think this one's going to be the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed.**

**Review, as always.**

We land at JFK on Thursday morning. My pulse is racing. I love New York – always have. The big city always seems to be the heart of the world and I love being in the middle of it. I thought it would bother me, but I know that finally, I'm home.

We pick up our luggage, then Olivia hails a cab. I haven't ridden in a cab in years and smile at the familiarity of it. "Do you want to go back to my place or do you want to stop by the precinct and say hi?"

I consider this. On one hand, it would be nice to see Elliot, John, Fin, and the captain again. On the other, it might be too much for one day.

To hell with it. "Yeah, let's stop by the one-six. Has it changed much?"

Olivia shrugs. "Not much."

"Do you have a new ADA?"

"Yeah. Her name's Casey Novak."

"Is she good?"

"Yeah, but nothing on you."

I smile at that.

The cab pulls up in front of the precinct and I take a deep breath to compose myself. We climb out of the taxi and enter the police station.

John is sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair and chewing a pencil. Fin is watching him, an expression of disdain on his face. Elliot is on his computer, tying something, and doesn't look up. The captain is standing in the squad room talking with a tall redhead, and I can tell just by her clothing and the way she holds herself that she's an ADA. It's that pretentious lawyer posture that we all have; even now, I stand the same way.

Elliot notices me first and his eyes widen. "Alex!"

I manage a small smile as everyone stops what they're doing and turns to face me.

"It's good to see you, Alex. Are you back – to stay?" asks the captain, and I glance at Olivia before I nod. She's smiling from ear to ear – this is almost like the good old days.

I perch on the edge of Olivia's desk and get caught up with my old colleagues. We talk, we laugh, and we go out for drinks when the day is done. Just like we used to.

I go back to Olivia's apartment with her and as we climb into bed that evening, I think how truly wonderful it is to be home at last.

**I know this wasn't that long a story, but I hope you liked it anyway. Drop me a review if you enjoyed!**


End file.
